I Dreamed a Dream of You

Last night, I dreamed a dream of you, sweet boy.

It wasn't a dream about the birth. I've had several of those and the birth always goes amazing and I wake up as you're being placed in my arms and I feel calm, knowing somehow deep down that everything will go okay.

This dream picked up after the birth. I had to go get you from the NICU. But I wasn't scared. Or nervous. I was just demanding that they let me have you. I knew in my dream it had been 24 hours since your birth and my arms ached for you.

(and then, in the funny way of dreams, there was some plot thickening where they couldn't find you. And then they did find you, in the daycare nursery, and you were already crawling. My strong baby.)

And then there you were. In my arms. Where you belong. And though crazy things kept happening around us in the dream (there was no car seat, so your dad had to leave us at the mall to go install one; your Uncle Brian kept trying to get your to wake up while you were napping, and so on), the chaos swirled around us and I stared down at you, smiling. You had dark hair and dark eyes and you looked back up at me, and we were calm. Nothing could touch us.

You were hungry and we laid down to nurse, and the milk flowed out of me on cue and you turned toward it, famished.

And I was swallowed in love and contentment.

Last night, I dreamed a dream of you, sweet boy. It wasn't a dream about your birth, it was a dream about what comes after.

It was a reminder that while it's true there's a bridge to cross, a bridge between my life with you inside me right now and our lives together on the other side, it isn't the crossing of that bridge that's important.

We will find each other. No matter the chaos that swirls around us, we will find each other and all will be right.

Every cell in my body tingles in yearning and anticipation. I can't wait to meet you.